


A Certain Slant of Light

by watermelonsuit



Series: Warp Particles 101 [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Janeway only drinks decaf when her mom is there, Nicknames, Winter Break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7605286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watermelonsuit/pseuds/watermelonsuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>B'Elanna knew she was going to hate winter break, but then Kathryn Janeway came along. Mush ahead, and not just the snowy kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Certain Slant of Light

B’Elanna knew she was going to hate winter break: sure, she hates her classes, hates school in general, hates the bureaucracy surrounding being half-Klingon on Earth, and holds a grudge against almost every other person in her classes, but being alone in San Francisco is going to beat all that, she knows. She especially knows when she runs into Kathryn Janeway lugging three suitcases stacked on top of each other down the main walk.

“Where are you going with all that?” B’Elanna asks, a little incredulous that all that will fit in a transporter room, if Kathryn even has the credits.

“Home to Indiana. Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. As soon as I got home I’d want to come back, and the trip would take up two-thirds of break anyhow. I’m staying put,” she sighs.

“Why? San Francisco is terrible in the winter.”

“What winter?”

“Exactly. B’Elanna, I’m giving you one hour to get packed and meet me in Transporter Room 3 if you want to come along.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” B’Elanna says.

“And bring your coat.”

“What coat?” B’Elanna shouts after her, but Kathryn just grins and runs away.

“It’s a good thing I never use my transporter credits,” B’Elanna says an hour later as Kathryn punches in their coordinates. She’d follow Kathryn to plenty of places, Sto-vo-kor even, possibly, after this past semester, but Indiana?

“I’m not bringing /that/ much home,” Kathryn protests. “But I do appreciate your help.” She pats B’Elanna on the arm and B’Elanna reaches to hold her hand. “Can’t touch in a transporter, B’Elanna.”

“Right.” Deadlier than usual, transporting like that. Add that to the list: B’Elanna hates transporters.

“Are you ready?”

“No. But go ahead.”

They land in a living room in what B’Elanna vaguely recognizes as the American Midwest, late afternoon. As she takes in her surroundings, Kathryn is already peering out the window.

“Looks like a storm.”

B’Elanna goes to look; Kathryn is gone, she’s striding out, she’s standing in the middle of a cornfield in the snow.

“A real blizzard!” Kathryn shouts from the field as the snow falls faster.

“What’s wrong with you?” B’Elanna shouts in reply as she runs down the steps, almost drowned out by a gust of wind.

Kathryn holds a hand out to her and in spite of how incredibly stupid standing in an Earth blizzard is with Kathryn Janeway, B’Elanna goes out to the middle of a barren cornfield for her, holds her hand, smiles when Kathryn smiles. The wind comes in against them with another swirl of snow.

“Have you ever been out in a snowstorm before?” B’Elanna shakes her head and covers her freezing ears. “We’d better go in,” Kathryn nearly shouts, pulling B’Elanna’s face close to be heard before she turns toward the house. “Not dressed for this.” The ground is more snow than mud now, B’Elanna following as fast as she can without slipping. Her lungs feel raw running against the wind.

Kathryn shuts the door against the snow. She clutches B’Elanna’s shoulder as she kicks off her boots, then rubs B’Elanna’s wet sleeve. B’Elanna shivers. “You’re cold.”

“Yeah, genius, I’m cold.”

“Come on.” Kathryn leads her upstairs to a linen closet, socks squelching on the steps. “Take this,” she says, and hands her a dark blue robe. B’Elanna pulls it tight around herself and peels off her wet clothes underneath.

“Looks like you’re cold too,” B’Elanna says at the sight of Kathryn returning to the hallway wrapped in a gigantic fluffy towel. She throws another one at B’Elanna’s head, but B’Elanna catches it first and mimes throwing it back at Kathryn. One bra strap’s slipped off her shoulder and B’Elanna flushes noticing it.

“Well,” Kathryn says, clearing her throat, “now that we’re not icicles, maybe it’s time to find some warm clothing. Shall we?” She fixes her bra strap and extends her hand to B’Elanna.

“Anytime, Captain.” Kathryn gives her a look: she’s clever enough to know there’s something behind _Captain._

Kathryn’s closet nearly overflows when she opens it with old sneakers and tennis balls.

“Jock much?” B’Elanna asks, and Kathryn chuckles. “I would have hated you in school.”

“Says the track and field hopeful. I bet you would’ve beaten me up in school,” Kathryn says, and B’Elanna socks her on the arm. “And we’re still in school, so don’t make that a habit.” She scans the closet, takes a sweater and sweatpants out and gives them to B’Elanna, and turns her back rather stiffly as B’Elanna puts them on.

“You don’t have to—I mean it’s fine, but you don’t have to.”

Kathryn turns around, her eyes not quite meeting B’Elanna’s. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” B’Elanna says, her heart pounding. Kathryn looks at her, hopeless, clutching her own towel. _Do something._ “Okay.” B’Elanna turns around and straightens her sleeves.

“Does it feel all right?” Kathryn says from farther behind her, “the sweater?”

“Great,” B’Elanna says.

 

* * *

 

It wouldn’t be winter break with Kathryn Janeway if she weren’t pouring coffee at 2200 in a nightgown and slippers about two sizes too large, or so B’Elanna thinks. She doesn’t hate this part. Kathryn’s mother is standing next to them, frowning as Kathryn pours a full mug of coffee.

“Kathryn, at this hour?” her mother tsks.

“Decaf, dear mother.”

“B’Elanna, can we make you anything?” Kathryn’s mother smiles, maternal, with something much like Kathryn’s warmth. “I’m afraid we’re more of a breakfast family,” she says. Kathryn crunches into a burnt piece of toast. “As my daughter will tell you.”

“Never too late for breakfast, isn’t that right, B’Elanna?”

“I-I wouldn’t know,” B’Elanna stutters. “Klingon breakfast is very… it’s not exactly toast and coffee.”

“A lot of protein, I’ll bet,” Kathryn’s mother says.

“You could say that.”

“Kathryn, what is that Klingon dish with the eggs—“

Kathryn shakes her head. “Oh, you know I’m terrible with the language.”

“Really.” B’Elanna crosses her arms, surprised. “Quadruple major Kathryn Janeway, with one major in exolinguistics?”

“Hardly fluent in Klingon.”

“I’m shocked.”

Kathryn shrugs and takes another sip of decaf.

“Turn off the coffee maker when you’re finished, Kathryn.”

A sigh. “Yes, Mother.”

“Goodnight, both of you.” She kisses Kathryn on the cheek. “Stay warm tonight, and don’t stay up too late.”

B’Elanna leans against one counter, Kathryn leans against the opposite. If they have anything like a substantial conversation, B’Elanna doesn’t remember it after: she’s sleepy and so is Kathryn, and they’re both pretending that’s a reasonable excuse to let their eyes drift over each other, joke about B’Elanna’s bare feet, Kathryn’s too-big slippers. B’Elanna crosses the room when it’s clear Kathryn’s forgotten about the coffee maker and turns it off as Kathryn leans closer, something intent in her gaze that vanishes before B’Elanna can completely face her.

Kathryn swallows the rest of her decaf. “Time for bed, I suppose.”

“That’s exactly what I’d say after drinking a cup of coffee at 2210. Even if it is decaf,” she adds before Kathryn corrects her. Regardless, B’Elanna’s pulse beats a little louder in her ears. Kathryn leads her upstairs to her room and kneels at the side of her bed. “It’s a trundle bed,” she says as she drags the second mattress out, one level below the other. “Pick a side.”

B’Elanna chooses the mattress on the floor. “This is nice. If my mother knew I was sleeping in a bed this soft, she’d have a fit.”

“Not very Klingon, hmm?”

“No, but very B’Elanna.” She scrunches the pillows under her head before stretching out under the covers.

“We’ll have to find you a better mattress at the Academy,” Kathryn says, amused.

“And a better pillow?”

“Two down pillows.” Kathryn reaches down to pat her arm.

“Thanks, Captain.”

“Do you mind the light?” Kathryn asks, meaning her padd’s reading light glowing above B’Elanna.

“Nope,” B’Elanna mumbles, already drifting off under the comfort of ancestral quilts and wool blankets.

“Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

 

B’Elanna sleeps for most of the night and wakes before dawn to find Kathryn’s hand hanging off her half of the bed. B’Elanna takes it tentatively to place it next to her side again and Kathryn’s breath catches in her throat.

“You awake?”

“Yes,” Kathryn says in a small, sleepy voice. “Would you…“

“What?”

“Here?” Kathryn asks, indicating her side of the bed. B’Elanna nods and climbs next to Kathryn. _How are you so goddamn timid sometimes_ , B’Elanna wants to ask but Kathryn turns on her side and moves toward her, impossibly warm, sweet. She takes a deep breath as Kathryn kisses her on her jaw, her mouth; her lips are chapped already but it doesn’t matter, Kathryn is wide-eyed holding B’Elanna’s face in her hands and she isn’t pulling away, she’s pressed impossibly close and B’Elanna’s whole body aches for her still.

Another long kiss and Kathryn breaks free, buries her face in B’Elanna’s neck, her golden brown hair falling over B’Elanna’s shoulders too. B’Elanna could swear she imagined a silent, convulsive sob against her until Kathryn lifts her head again, her eyes glittering, her mouth open, wanting. B’Elanna pulls Kathryn closer, never close enough.

“Never thought—”

“What, genius?” B’Elanna asks Kathryn, wrapping her arms tight around her.

“I didn’t think…” Kathryn bites her lip.

“You don’t have to think. You just have to want this. If you want this.”

“I want this, B’Elanna,” Kathryn whispers. “You.” She kisses B’Elanna hard on the mouth until it hurts, until they can’t breathe, and breaks away.

B’Elanna gasps as she catches her breath. “Same here, Captain.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes fom Emily Dickinson's poem [There's a certain Slant of Light](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/45723), which is a really great poem you should read if you haven't already.


End file.
